The best thing about the new apartment above this Beaminster restaurant, owned by MasterChef winner Mat Follas, is that you only have to go downstairs for top grub

MasterChef winner Mat Follas runs The Wild Garlic, which now has room for overnight stays.

With the exception of Thomasina Miers, the most recognisable MasterChef winner is surely genial, goateed Mat Follas, who scooped the title last year showcasing his love of foraged food. Victory has enabled the Dorset-based former IT consultant to follow his star. The Wild Garlic is it, a small, unassuming restaurant in tiny Beaminster (I say tiny because one minute you're approaching the town square, the next – if you do not park right away – you will be swept out of town by the tide of traffic, next stop, Bridport).

Gastronomes will, of course, have read the opening reviews last year. The reason I am coming is to try out a new apartment, just opened above the restaurant. It proves a devil of a job for me to book the apartment and get a table on the same night, but eventually I pull it off.

My private domain is reached via a staircase from the restaurant (or a side door when The Wild Garlic is shut). So here I am, in the late afternoon, watching the light fading through the stone mullion windows and the 4x4s emptying out from the square.

I'm in the large bed-sitting room looking through to a kitchen-diner, off which is a shower room. I like the personal touch – a good eye has put this together, it's a personal selection, rather than handing over cash to Laura Ashley's design service and saying, "There you go, get on with it." Purple velvet, orange leather, black and white toile de Jouy, a bit of Ercol furniture here, and Scandinavian glass there. It's a posh bedsit, that's what.

Time for a bit of my own foraging. Disappointment. No little plate of brownies to have with a cup of tea. There is milk, butter and – nice touch – a bottle of wine in the fridge though, and a basket on the counter-top contains tea and coffee things and Dorset cereals. It's on the basic side, however, and I cannot find a teapot or cafetière.

The Wild Garlic's apartment.Photograph: Philippa Gedge

No news tonight, either – the telly is only a DVD screen. When I ask about the heating though, chef himself comes up to sort it. Blimey.

Dinner, with a friend (Sophy has been itching to come for months), is everything we'd hoped and more. Exciting food, served by smiling and knowledgeable staff, in an unponcey atmosphere.

An inter-course amuse bouche arrives after the starter of hand-dived scallops with garlic on seaweed and salad of butternut squash and goats' cheeses. It's a plate of tiny leaves, nasturtium, oyster leaf, red sorrel and red Russian perilla.

"Bloody good – worth the money, which most restaurants round here aren't," says my pal, savouring every mouthful of her £20 plate of rose veal fillet with

almonds. Venison, the best I've ever had, comes on a bed of the only red cabbage I've ever liked and accompanied by a mini game pie. By the time autumn berry clafoutis and chilli chocolate soup turn up, we've slowed to a crawl. All credit, we agree, to Follas, frankly, for opening off the beaten track, but thank goodness I only have to get upstairs.

The Wild Garlic is a bijoux restaurant-with-a-room, but I can't help thinking that very soon Mr Follas and his worthy team are going to need more restaurant – and more rooms.

What to do in the area: By the locals

A pub mealThe Fox & Hounds (foxandhoundsinn.com) in Cattistock is a warm and friendly country pub, where Scott, the Landlord, serves great food. This is my "local", not that I get there very often any more and it's the place where I had my first experience of running a professional kitchen. Before I opened my restaurant, Scott & Liz were generous enough, or foolish enough, to invite me to do a couple of try-out nights at the pub, where I designed the menu and cooked it. It was very stressful but made me realise just how much fun cooking professionally could be; it was an unforgettable experience.Mat Follas, co-owner of The Wild Garlic

Take a hikeLying in the hills of west Dorset, the town of Beaminster is a hub for walkers. One of my favourite hikes takes you from St Mary's church in Beaminster, via St Mary's in Netherbury, and ending at St Mary's in Stoke Abbott. It's about five miles in all and there are pubs at both ends. The walk takes you past Parnham House, once the home of John Makepeace and his furniture school, then on to Netherbury and Stoke Abbott, two of the prettiest villages in Dorset.Amanda Follas, co-owner of The Wild Garlic

A shopping tripThe historic square in Beaminster is surrounded by 18th- and 19th-century houses of golden limestone. Although there's a small supermarket in the square, Beaminster has managed to buck the usual high street trend and retain a glut of independent retailers. There's the Green Drawers eco shop (greendrawers.com), Cilla & Camilla (gift shop), Strummer Pink (interior design), @Home (kitchenware), three ladies' clothes shops, four cafes and two galleries, not to mention wonderful local food producers Nick Tett (family butcher) and Fruit 'n' Two Veg. AF

Surprisingly Bridport (six miles from Beaminster) has one of the best hat and millinery shops in the UK. T Snook (snooksthehatters.co.uk) was founded in 1896 and is on West Street. This year saw the first Bridport Hat Festival, held on the third weekend in September, and it is likely to be an annual event. If you wear hats, a visit to "the greatest little hat shop in the land" is a must.John Dean, Colly Farm Bridport (collyfarmbridport.co.uk)

A day tripTake the kids to quirky West Bay near Bridport to enjoy an excellent rope-themed playground that recalls the area's rope-making history. Follow that with fish and chips on the pier as the sun dips into the sea. (Boxing Day sees the West Bay Wallow, a fancy dress swim for charity. Brr!)Shirley Samways, Cafe@AnnDay (annday.co.uk)

The village of Symondsbury lies a mile west of Bridport and nestles under Colmers Hill, a landmark in the area. It is a typical west Dorset village, with its manor house, tithe barn and church. Park and visit the pottery in Manor Yard, before walking up Duck Street from where you can walk to the top of Colmers Hill and have a stunning view of Golden Cap and the Jurassic coast. If you wish, you can walk on and join the Monarch's Way, the escape route taken by Charles II in 1651 as he fled to France after the battle of Worcester. On return, your efforts deserve a stop at the Ilchester Arms in the village, where you can enjoy a drink and an excellent meal by a roaring fire. A warm welcome is a given! JD

Local cultureThe first week in November sees the annual Bridport Literary Festival, which started last Friday and ends tomorrow (7 November). Still on the bill are talks on Rosamund Barlett's Tolstoy biography and a talk by economist Howard Davies on the financial crisis. Events are held at the Bridport Arts Centre and the Bull Hotel. For full details of the schedule see bridport-arts.com/bridport-literary-festival. JD

However, I thought I'd take a step back and throw you a curve ball by writing about what Mat Follasand his fine brigade normally dish up.

Last February, my husband, his brother, his brother's girlfriend and I had resolved that as soon as the gladiator that had slain his opponents in culinary warfare had established a going concern, we would venture west and pay a pilgrimage to this champion.

Well, life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans, so it's not till more than a year later that we four are embarking on an adventure to the distant land of Dorset to make good this resolution.

None of us want to drive, so we get a train to the nearest station, and thus find ourselves in the village of Crewkerne wondering what the hell to do. There's some kind of funfair being set up, and the temptation to go on the Mega-Dance and 'llow Beaminster altogether is strong, but eventually we find a cab who takes us the rest of the way.

The Wild Garlic's address is 4, the Square. Beaminster appears to comprise just this Square, so it's easy enough to find.

Any weirdness is immediately replaced by awe - being pedestrians, we've lazily booked the apartment directly above the restaurant, and Katy, one of Mat's brigade, leads us up to a retro vision of wood, pale greens and lilacs (a theme carried over from the restaurant).

The flat is bigger than we expected, comprising a combined bedroom and lounge area, a fully equipped kitchen diner (plus bread, butter, wine and cereals) and an ensuite bathroom.

Moreover, I'm a sucker for a well-designed piece of furniture, and this flat is a showcase for some of the best including G-Plan and Ercol - a beautiful set of table and three-legged chairs which sleekly slot together to leave a clean silhouette, some Mad Men-style purple recliners, a starburst wall clock, and a glam mirrored pendant lamp.

I make the other three strike a pose for posterity. It has to be done.

There's time to kill before dinner, so we loaf around the stylish apartment for a while, and then decide that we really ought to get some fresh sea air. Sadly, there is only one bus from Beaminster toWest Bay (the nearest beach) and we miss it - the brother-in-law and his other half make it to the sea on foot, but my husband and I do not, as Mat has asked Terry Ireland (his sous chef and a semi-finalistin this year's MasterChef) to let me have a go at prep before service that evening.

It's my first time in a professional kitchen and I mainly get in the way, so we're all relieved when it gets to 7, and I can cross to the other side of the swing door for our reservation.

Bread, Nuts and Oil

The four of us sit down at a gorgeous wooden table which looks like a large piece of driftwood, but in fact used to be a French carpenter's table.

It's strikingly different from the other tables, which are by Marnie Moyle and just as beautiful, but engraved at the edges with the names of birds, plants, and randomly, types of potato.

A jug of iced water arrives immediately from a smiling Steph. Jen and Emma are also front of house tonight - Jen takes drinks orders - some wine for the others and Mat's Fizz for me. We're also given good bread, oil and balsamic to dip in, and some spiced, caramelised nuts to nibble.

Because I'm with family and I'm a control freak, I make all the food choices - we absolutely have to cover as much of the menu as possible.

Often Thermidor is so smothered in cheese that the seafood is suffocated, but here the creamy sauce simply serves to enhance the sweetness of the delicate crab, as it rightly should.

Continuing this theme of allowing the main ingredient to shine, the Wild Garlic squid comes free of the usual batter shackles and, astonishingly, the texture is perfect - tender, delicious, with no sign of rubber at all.

Sweet Chilli Squid

And the chilli jam that comes with it is fresh and uncloying (in fact, not half an hour beforehand, Terry was trying to teach me how to make both this and the thermidor sauce, to which my reaction was, "You're not really expecting me to remember all this, are you?").

The duck leg is a little too salty for my liking, but the skin is fabulously crispy, and the portion so generous that we dive in without guilt when my brother-in-law offers a tasting.

The smoked meats are textbook, but as for the scallops - oh, the scallops. Mr Follas has been known to dive for his own anyway, which already makes them that little bit more special ("hand-dived by the chef" and all that).

Smoked Scallops

But these scallops have been smoked until they turn into nuggets of yum. Yes, that's possibly the worst phrase that I have ever written in my life (although give me time), but seriously, people - nuggets of yum.

My husband has never, ever seen the point of scallops, but these ones, which have been smoked briefly over woodshavings in a little camp-style smoking pan, actually make him change his mind.

A storming start, so we're really looking forward to the next round. We, by which I mean I, have chosen Local Pork Chop, Hogweed, Purple Sweet Potato, Crayfish; Slow-Cooked Skirt, Truffle Cream; Whole Gurnard, Tomato and Tamarind; and Fillet of Beef, Smoked Mash and Bearnaise Sauce.

As we wait for our mains, two platters are brought with five beautiful types of leaf on each for us to try as amuse-bouches. Sadly I can't remember them all, but there's ice leaf, oyster leaf and Tiny Totoro Umbrella (aka nasturtium). All mad, all exciting, the peppery nasturtium's my favourite and not just because of the Ghibli/Animal Crossing connotations.

When my dish arrives, I want to sing "Under the Sea", so lively does my wee crayfish appear (and it tastes just as perky). The pork chop is a little tough, but the fat is nicely crisped, and the ground hogweed ramps up the savouriness. The purple sweet potato is soothing and moreish, with warm hints of miso.

Pork Chop, Hogweed, Crayfish, Purple Sweet Potato

The hubby's beef and smoked mash is gorgeously autumnal, the mash a sexier version of the one I'd tasted in Birmingham.

Brother-in-law's beef is an even better chunk of cow than the husband's, with its frothy topping of truffley cream. And like the miso in my purple mash, there's another Japanese touch in the littletamagoyaki roll which comes with his dish - but it goes surprisingly well.

Skirt Steak with Truffled Cream

And his girlfriend's gurnard is the biggest beast we've ever seen - she immediately names the fish Bernard, and then apologises to it repeatedly as she eats its delicious body covered in tangy sauce.

At this point though, we're close to admitting defeat. The portions are huge.

Possibly too huge. But despite the size, the presentation is somehow dainty - they're the prettiest plates I've seen in a while.

Bernard the Gurnard

But I'll be damned if I don't get to try dessert, so we plough on and order Mixed Berry Eton Mess; Local Damson and Apple Crumble; and Trio of Chocolate Desserts (Chocolate Cardamom Brownie, Dark Chocolate and Rosemary Mousse, Chocolate and Orange Sorbet).

We also order some of Mat's home-made sloe gin - might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, and it turns out to be delightful.

The Eton Mess is heavenly. There is no other word one could use. The damson and apple mix is too sharp; however, the granola in the oaty crumble works brilliantly.

Eton Mess

The trio of desserts is also a success - my favourite being the citrussy sorbet, though the mousse is a close second.

And to be fair, the only reason I'm not so keen on the brownie is that I'm not fond of cardamom used in sweet stuff.

Trio of Chocolate Desserts

By now, we're weakly scraping at the plates with our spoons, lapsing into a food coma, when Mat appears to say hello and gives us all a shot of Somerset Pomona on the house.

This act of kindness combined with the wonderful food we've indulged in means the rest of the night disappears into a bit of a haze ...

Meemalee's Kitchen at The Wild GarlicMiMi AyeMeemalee.com1 October 2010

I'm staring at the biggest box of onions I have ever seen in my life. And all I can think is, "Oh boy".

About six months ago, I was chatting on Twitter, when someone asked me for a Burmese restaurant recommendation. I mentioned Mandalay as being the only place I knew of, and then someone else jumped in and asked if I'd do a Burmese night and cook for people.

The next thing I knew, Mat Follas, the chef and owner of The Wild Garlic and winner of MasterChef 2009, tweeted to me, "Why don't you come and cook Burmese food at my place?"

I am not a chef. I had never been in a professional kitchen. So I did what any normal person would have done in the circumstances, and I rang up my friend Kavey and screamed at her in excitement,

"Oh My God - is he joking? I'd love to do it. Do you think I can do it? What the hell should I say?"

Kavey is infinitely more sensible than me, and she said to me, "Play it cool and say yes".

So I said yes. Fast forward to October, and I'm on a train to Dorset with my husband and a suitcase full of century eggs and a rucksack full of fish balls.

This little video will tell you how it went

It was and is the biggest thing I've ever done, and probably the coolest.

At one stage, I was hefting great stockpots of curry down the windiest, creakiest, most precarious stairs from the upstairs prep kitchen to the restaurant kitchen, and my only thought was how much fun I was having.

Although initially panicked by having to work out quantities and timings, and the number of dishes on my menu, I'd done all the prep, and I knew that I had a full team behind me, supporting me all the way.

Then the diners started arriving and it was show-time. Service itself was frantic, but wonderful, and passed in a mad, lovely blur.

My right-hand man was the lovely Terry Ireland (a semi-finalist in this year's MasterChef), but everyone, both front of house and in the kitchen, was absolutely fantastic.

Green Bean Salad, Century Egg Salad, Fish Ball Salad

As the night went on, seeing empty plate after empty plate come back was an amazing thrill.

At one point, Mat came into the kitchen and said, "There's a dairy farmer out there who says he will give up beef for your Cinnamon Chicken".

I thought I'd burst with delight and excitement.

Tomato and Coriander Prawns - copyright the London Foodie

Straw Mushroom and Spinach Stirfry - copyright the London Foodie

Mogok Pork Curry - copyright the London Foodie

Coconut Sorbet, Iced Tapioca Milk, Brioche - copyright Kavey Eats

And then at the end, when I was knackered and flustered, Mat dragged me out to the diners and the whole restaurant applauded.

Tired though I was, suddenly I felt my heart singing with happiness.

A leaving present from Mat

I thought to myself, "God, this must be what it's like being on MasterChef", and I finally understood why people become chefs for a living. I was almost tempted myself.

The icing on the cake was when Mat gave me a proper Furi chef's knife when I left to say thank you.

Anyway, Burmese Night at the Wild Garlic was an absolute blast, and I think I will definitely do it again if there's interest - and this time a bit closer to home.

And all the recipes, including the one for Cinnamon Chicken, will be in the Burmese cookbook which I'm currently writing - although I haven't got a deal yet - hint hint to any publishers that come across this ...

Talking of thank yous, it wouldn't have been possible without the following people, so thank you so much to Mat Follas, Amanda Follas, Gill Anstey, Terry Ireland, Charlie, Sophie, Katy, Shannon, Tash, Zoe, Jen, Georgie, Steph, Emma, and Annie at The Wild Garlic.

Foraging for food in the woodland and beaches of Dorset with a real-life TV Masterchef

Theo Langton imparts local knowledge to the group.Photograph: Neil Turner for The Guardian

I'm not an outdoor girl. As far as foraging for food goes, I'm less the wilds of Dorset, more the aisles of Waitrose. So how do I find myself eating plants picked from a wet and windy beach on the south coast? I'd like to say, as a trainee chef, it's because I'm passionate about discovering new ingredients – but that would be a lie. No, I'm here because I'm addicted to TV cookery programmes, so when the opportunity to meet a real-life Masterchef arises, I jump at it. Even though it does involve being outside. In the rain.

I have signed up to take part in a foraging day run by 2009 Masterchef winner Mat Follas. For me, Mat was one of the programme's most memorable contestants, a New Zealand-born IT manager with a passion for wild and foraged ingredients. He now runs a successful restaurant, The Wild Garlic, in Beaminster, Dorset, and this summer launched a series of foraging days, giving diners the chance to join him for a morning's exploration of the local environs, followed by lunch at the restaurant.The day starts at 9.30am, when the group meet Mat and guide Theo, a fascinating local character whose family are all ardent foragers and also live entirely without electricity. If anyone knows about living off the land, you trust he does. Despite the rain, everyone is eager to get going.

No sooner than we've set off, Theo stops us. He points to some leaves sprouting from a grate in the road. I'm no gardener but my first guess would be weeds. Apparently not. It's hairy bittercress, an edible leaf related to mustard, which works well in salads.

Clocking the worried faces, Theo stresses he's notadvocating truffling in the gutters, but merely pointing out that these ingredients are on our doorstep.

After examining some ground elder in an overgrown garden (again, good in salads) we continue into the countryside. Forestry work prevents us from exploring the best mushroom-picking areas, so we focus on the hedgerows. The double act between Mat and Theo works well, with Theo explaining the traditional uses of what we spot and Mat focusing on how he uses the ingredients in the kitchen. We discuss an endless trail of plants – I doubt I'd have the confidence to identify them all again but many stick in my mind: the silver birch tree that yields sugar, the jack-by-the-hedge seeds that taste of wasabi and the hogweed seeds that burst with cardamom flavour, which Mat uses in his chocolate brownies.

Briefly we take shelter in a copse, apparently home to an abundance of wild garlic in early spring. Wild garlic typifies what Mat loves about foraging – an ingredient that can be used in numerous ways at every stage of its life cycle: the flower petals in salads, the older leaves wrapped round meat, the bulbs roasted. Here, he also explains the ethics of foraging, encouraging us to be mindful of where we are, who owns the land and the importance of not stripping an environment. Taking just 10% of a plant is almost too much, he warns: "If it's been taken unethically then the food just won't taste good."

After a tea-and-brownie stop back at the restaurant, we head out again by van to explore the shore. The pebble beach is a forager's paradise, littered with patches of bluey-green sea kale and bushes of rock samphire. As the wind picks up, some of us (me included) retreat to the van while others continue with Theo along the coast. We pick them up at the end of their trail and head back for lunch.

On the menu today: watercress soup with red cress and quail's egg served with foraged leaves; locally sourced crayfish salad with crayfish consomme; and tangy sorrel ice-cream with apple and lavender jelly, wild raspberries and borage flowers. These days we're so used to a standard roll call of flavours when we eat out, it's a genuine surprise and pleasure to taste something you have never tried before. My day with the Masterchef has more than lived up to expectations. May many more people take a foraged leaf out of Mat's book.

I was invited to shoot 'behind the scenes' during a dinner service in July 2010 at The Wild Garlic restaurant in Dorset, England. Owned by chef/patron Mat Follas, the winner of Masterchef UK 2009, the restaurant specialises in locally sourced, seasonal food.This slideshow offers a glimpse of a typical night at 'The Garlic' and takes you through the whole of a dinner service in the busy kitchen - all the way from prep to cleandown.Keep your eyes peeled for Masterchef 2010 semi-finalist Terry Ireland and finalist Alex Rushmer...

Dusk is the time to descend on Puckden Wood. I walk to its heart, open my arms then breathe in lungful after lungful. The flowers of May cover the ground as extravagantly as had the falls of January's snow, and every year this great explosion of ransoms leaves me spellbound. My children are normally about as keen on walking as Pauline Prescott is after a fresh blow-dry but come May even they will down their Wiis and race to the woods. April's sweet sweep of bluebells had seemed beauty itself, until summer's white shroud. Early evening is when deer break cover and in their flight they trample the delicate flowers that could so easily be lily of the valley, and this fills the wood with a powerful aroma of garlic.I realise that brand-wise, garlic has work to do. The marketing men would consider its pong a definite negative. Its image is down there with Ratners and New Labour while even the prettiest lips parted to reveal garlic breath will send most us recoiling faster than from a Greek bearing gilts.But in the woods I can't get close enough to wild garlic. You would kiss this with gusto. If it weren't for its unsexy reputation Jennifer Aniston would have declared it a scent and bottled it as "Amorous: the Aroma" or "Whiff of the Wild – For Women".So I'm delighted to see garlic being rehabilitated. A restaurant has been opened called Wild Garlic, and it's sensational. The chef is Mat Follas, the IT geek now reigning as Masterchef. And serendipitously his inspiration is Denmark's Noma, just declared the best restaurant in the world. Follas had a stint at Noma while filming Masterchef and impressed its chef, Rene Redzepi, as he did viewers. As I await a table there – Copenhagen's tourist board claims 100,000 people around the globe are in the queue – I'm intrigued to see how its ethos might work in Britain.Noma goes way beyond the usual "local produce" mantra, avoiding even olive oil. When I interviewed Redzepi recently he spoke of sending his chefs foraging, garnering extraordinary ingredients: cloudberrys, wild beach roses, musk ox. He talks with near-religious solemnity about venturing out with "cold fingers" to pick "the first shoots of spring".

True, many British restaurants now decorate dishes with "foraged leaves" but these sometimes add about as much flavour as the cellophane packaging to a sandwich. Follas claims to employ three foragers. I'm not sure wild garlic is the greatest challenge to the forager's craft seeing as you can smell it several fields away but the name does symbolise Noma's attempt to re-connect with nature. If Heston Blumenthal is exploring the future, Noma is pioneering the past.

Beaminster is a small town with a big appetite. On a soaking midweek evening two food vans do a bustling trade while inside the simple, rustic restaurant every table has been snared. As soon as chefs acquire even the stringiest reputation they often desert to shoot some dire cookery show, but within minutes of us sitting before our rough-hewn table Follas enters the dining room. He is bearing a giant brill of proportions almost as generous as his own. Our eyes had wandered elsewhere on the brief but tempting menu but who could resist that brill? Redzepi also brings food to table, declaring there is nothing like facing customers out front to raise his game out back. Follas is rugby-tackled by another customer rhapsodising: "That's the best pigeon I've ever tasted".I order a starter of spelt and nettle risotto with confit rabbit, and I'm tempted to do bunny hops of joy. Spelt grain makes this sturdier than conventional risotto, while pine nuts add crunchiness and nettle pesto round the edge lends intrigue. Like all Follas dishes it's perfectly seasoned, but it's the strong flavour of rabbit that wows. Faultless.Diana tries crab pâté with cucumber and pickled dill, stunningly presented with nasturtiums and resting on chicory leaves which somehow escape bitterness and are instead young and juicy.Unusually an amuse bouche arrives after the first course by which time our mouths are already laughing merrily. And rather than some frothy nonsense this is proper grub: smoked venison, so tender I long for it all over again.And so to brill, arriving not so much on a plate as a giant flying saucer. There are no tricks, just consummate cooking of fine fresh fish, lifted powerfully by lemon and caper butter. Fillet of beef with – another seasonal touch – asparagus is another simple perfectly cooked winner, the only twist coming in wonderfully smoked mash.Puddings don't win quite so many garlands. A lime tart has good texture on thin short-crust pastry and is well caramelised, but where's the lime? It tastes more like thick baked custard. Hot chocolate is better, with cream poured into the gooey middle lightening the richness.But these are quibbles as trifling as a foraged Jack-by-the-hedge. If the burghers of every country town could enjoy a restaurant like the beaming folk of Beaminster's, we Britons would be happier bunnies.Best of all there is nothing poncey about this place. A note on the menu states: "If you have had great service please leave a tip; if you haven't, don't." Just so.Now when I amble over to Puckden Wood I will still be thinking of aromas – but they will be calling me back to Beaminster.

Cooking outdoors allows you to make messy, adventurous meals that you wouldn't attempt in the kitchen. What are your favourites?

Mat Follas cooks over on an open fire.Photograph: David Mansell

I used to go camping in a serious way, with nothing more than a backpack and freeze-dried meals to sustain me. Now, however (I'm not sure whether it is because I'm wiser, or just older), I like a little more comfort, and I want my food to have flavour. Some of the old campfire favourites – bacon, eggs, sausages, beans – are fine, but you don't want them every day, and they tend to be heavy with fat and salt.

To get more variety, the key is to go for different flavours and, while you are at it, why not try some dishes that are not that practical to make at home? Cooking on an open fire is the ideal opportunity for messy cooking: charred jacket potatoes, fish cooked in clay, or an American-style rack of ribs with a dry, spicy rub. This is the sort of cooking that, if attempted in suburbia, would have the neighbours complaining about the smoke or phoning the fire brigade.

When you are camping, you don't take your kitchen scales; you do everything by eye and instinct. All you need is some basic equipment (a good knife, a grater, strong plastic bags that seal, and, if you're not backpacking, a heavy casserole dish), essential flavours (salt, pepper, powdered chilli, allspice, garlic, sugar, ginger, thyme, lemongrass, fresh limes, soy sauce) and some sunflower oil. Here are some of my favourite ideas for meals; use them as a starting point for your own dishes.

KebabsPut some prawns in a plastic bag with chilli, oil and lemon. Shake it about, leave for an hour or so, then skewer the prawns and cook them over the fire.

If you prefer meat, mix up some peanut butter with oil and chilli to make a satay sauce. Chop pork, beef or lamb into small cubes and place in a bag with the sauce. To marinate the meat more deeply, add a teaspoon of plain yoghurt if you have some, shake and leave for a couple of hours before cooking.

Wild saladsIf you put salad leaves in a sealed plastic bag with a dribble of water, they will keep for a few days. Supplement with foraged wild garlic, dandelions and primrose flowers (assuming you can find these in a dog-and-pesticide-free area). Drain the excess water from the salad leaves.

Chuck some oil, a little lemon juice, a few drops of vinegar (if you have it) and a pinch of salt into a new bag. Shake, then add your salad leaves and wild leaves. Shake again and serve.

Charred jacket potatoesWrap the potatoes in foil and chuck them in the ashes for at least half an hour. They should end up black on the outside. Hold them in a thick cloth to prise them open and scoop out the middle. They will be steamy, and delicious with butter.

Clay-baked fishThere are two schools of thought on cooking fish in a fire: you wrap it in either damp newspaper or clay. I lean towards clay as it is easier to handle, and feels more natural. To find clay, you need to look along the edges of a creek or stream.

Roll out a pencil-sized piece, and if you can wrap it around your finger without it breaking, then you've got good clay. Roll-out a 1cm thick sheet

of this clay and place on it a gutted fish stuffed with a few interesting flavourings (wild garlic, a lime, ginger, lemongrass). Wrap the fish in the clay, ensuring there are no air gaps, and carefully place it in the hot ashes, covering with more glowing, hot ashes. Leave it to cook for 40 minutes to an hour.

Spatchcock chicken or ribsCooking meat skewered on some branches is great fun and impresses the kids like nothing else, except perhaps cooking fish in clay. Spatchcock a chicken – its easy! – or get your butcher to do it; or use a rack of ribs instead.

Make a dry rub using roughly equal quantities of allspice, crushed garlic, grated ginger, sugar, chilli powder and salt. Then rub thoroughly over the chicken or ribs. Skewer your chicken with crossed branches poked through the legs on opposite sides, in an X shape. Prop the meat above the fire – if the heat is right, the meat should start charring after about five minutes; cook for 15 minutes in total. Check the juices run clear by poking the thickest part of the meat before serving.

Bonfire puddingsSimple banana halves fried in butter never fails. There is no need to add sugar, although leftover Easter egg works well with this.

If you're feeling more ambitious, try this "bonfire clafouti": cover the bottom of a cast-iron casserole dish with a layer of pear or apple halves, make a thick batter using a packet sponge cake or muffin mix, and pour over the fruit. Place the lid on the casserole dish and balance it above the hot ashes (there needs to be an air gap under the dish to stop it from burning). This is a fantastic way to finish your bonfire dinner.

These are my favourites, tried and tested, but I'm always keen to hear new ideas. So what inspired campfire dishes have you come up with and which have ended in disaster? Also, what's good to drink with a charred dinner? I'm a bit biased - I like a certain well-known stout with most things, but a bottle of wine is also guaranteed to taste better drunk in the fresh air around a fire.